


A Partner I Can Trust

by Caro Dee (Caro_Dee)



Series: Ambivalent [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caro_Dee/pseuds/Caro%20Dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim had his reasons for disappearing, not all of which he's willing to tell Blair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Partner I Can Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Sentinel Angst list in 2004 and then appearing in My Mongoose in February 2005. A big thank you to Bluewolf, T.W., CarolROI and Lyn for betaing. I'm also grateful to Lyn for giving this an Ozpicking.

The sunlight glittering off the waves is beautiful. I have to avoid carelessness but my control is solid. Down the beach, a couple of kids are playing Frisbee and that gives me the usual bittersweet moment of nostalgia, then I let it go. I have a job to do.

Sweeping the water, I check that all the swimmers that should be there are doing fine. Turning my attention to the shore, I can see that the light crowd of sunbathers and strollers and running kids are okay as well.

"Hey, Jim!"

I glance down from my tower to exchange grins with one of my fellow lifeguards. "What do _you_ want, Chief?"

Tom says, "Shift's almost over, mate. We're meeting up at the Sandbar for a beer. You joining us?"

I consider it. I like to join the crew on a regular basis. They're fun to hang out with and I've learned it's important to remain approachable. But I'm feeling a little antsy and I don't know why. A nice, solitary drive up the coast taking in the beauty of the land and sea sounds like a better deal. "Not today."

"Lizzie will be there," Tom says slyly.

I grin back at him. Lizzie is a lifeguard groupie and she's picked me as her next conquest. Funny and pleasant, she fills a bikini out really well. She's also all of twenty-three years old. So I appreciate the compliment, enjoy the view and back off politely. "I think you younger guys will be able to distract her."

"Yeah, right, you old bastard. Because you can just barely totter along the beach. No rescuing for you. The rest of us are sick of carrying your weight around here." Tom winks and walks off.

Tom was referring to the incident about a week ago when we had a shark attack. It was fairly early so we didn't have a huge crowd. One moment, everything was peaceful. The next, a jetskier was heading in to shore, yelling "Shark!" Grabbing my rescue board and the radio, I passed the news along the beach as I was running full tilt to the water's edge. All along the beach, the guards were herding people out of the water.

There was one teenager still out there, paying no attention. Found out later he was deaf, but right then, I was pissed and swam out, fully intending to ream him a new one about personal safety once this was over. Looking underwater, I saw the shark was aware of the kid and circling closer. This had the potential to get really ugly.

Most sharks aren't interested in humans. But occasionally they get hungry, sample the available food group, decide that humans taste bad and pass on by. Unfortunately, the sampling involves a chunk of flesh the size of a plate. Nasty and dangerous.

I reached the kid first. He looked at me, startled. When I yelled, "Shark!" and shoved him toward the shore, he turned pale and took off. I followed behind, keeping a lookout for our predator.

Then the shark moved in, starting the distinctive roll, and I slammed my rescue board in its face. Water being what it is, it shoved both of us apart. But I was still between it and the kid. The shark circled and circled, looking increasingly agitated. It came around again. Wham!

It made one more try before the kid and I reached shallow enough water to stand and run. I backed out, still alert, knowing that sharks have no problem swimming in the shallows. Then we were out of the water and safe.

Now that the danger was over, I was shaking with adrenaline and I turned to yell at the kid, only to see his mother there, hugging him frantically through her tears and then using sign language to scold him. Well, shit.

I looked around and waved Adrian over. "You handle this," I told him and jogged off to the lifeguard station. Adrian moved in to handle the kid's mother and the gathered crowd. The run helped work off some of the excess energy and I'd calmed down when I got there. I called the attack in, warning them about the unusual level of aggression. Then I headed back, knowing the rest of the day would consist of chasing people out of the water until the shark was gone.

The reporter gave me a moment of concern. But he was from the local newspaper, and we're not one of the big cities along the coast. So I wasn't too worried.

Guess I should have been.

Because today, when I get home, intending to take a shower, change and head out again, _he's_ waiting for me.

I see him the instant I turn the corner, sitting in his rental, watching the old beach house I currently live in. A sharp pang slices through me and, for a moment, I want to just turn around and keep driving until he gives up and goes away. But if he's gone to the trouble of finding me and trekking halfway around the world, I owe him the courtesy of meeting him outside my front door. Steeling myself for the confrontation, I park my car, get out and stand there waiting for him.

He sits like a statue for a minute, face blank, staring at me through the windshield. Then he climbs out and starts walking straight towards me. I can't tell anything from his expression, but the closer he gets, the faster he's moving, and I brace for his swing, figuring I have it coming. But I've forgotten that Sandburg never does what I expect.

Just like that he's inside my defenses, arms wrapped around me and breathing "Jim" in my ear.

Damnit, Sandburg, don't do this to me. I don't think I can handle it. But my arms are moving up to grab hold of him, too, and I don't care that we look like a couple of idiots, hugging in broad daylight.

Sandburg feels like he's settled in for the duration but after about ten seconds I start pulling away, and he lets go. I step back, staring down at him. There are _tears_ in his eyes. Jesus.

Suddenly I can't breathe, so I pivot and march off to my house, Sandburg running along behind me. Just like it used to be. Unlocking the door, I head over to the kitchen, slam open one of the cabinets, and pull out two shot glasses and a bottle of Black Douglas whiskey. Sandburg closes the door behind him and comes over, taking the glass I silently hold out to him.

"Cheers," I toast him and throw back the shot.

Sandburg stares at me, then shrugs and drinks the shot in a couple of deep swallows. I hold out the whiskey again and he shakes his head. Yeah, probably a good idea. No point in getting sloppy drunk; who knows what I'd end up saying. I put the bottle back and turn to him.

"I'm not going back."

His face tightens for a split second, then smoothes out. "Okay."

I blink in surprise. "Okay? Just like that? Are you sure you're Blair Sandburg?"

"What good would it do me, Jim? If I pushed, you'd just disappear again and I might not find you a second time. Your life, your decision. I'm pretty clear on the concept."

The edge of bitterness in his voice makes me stop and take a good look. That's when I notice the changes in Sandburg. He's much too pale and thin and the skin around his eyes looks bruised. Zooming in a little closer, I see the faint network of lines carved permanently into his skin, lines of pain and grief. Ah Chief, for all your talk you never really could let go, could you?

"Why, Jim? Why did you disappear like that?"

I can't help it as I bark out a laugh. "Yeah, right. And you would have let me leave?"

His eyes narrow. "How would I have stopped you?"

My smile is rueful and affectionate. "You'd have talked my ear off until I ended up doing whatever you wanted just to get you off my case. You know you would have."

"I'd have tried," he acknowledges, humor flickering over his face for a second, then disappearing under the anger again. "I wouldn't have wanted you to go. Because you're my friend. Because I care about you."

"You think I don't care?"

"Yeah, I guess I don't. If you cared, you wouldn't have left like that," Sandburg says resentfully.

If I didn't care, I wouldn't have _had_ to do it that way. I could have said my good-byes and walked away with no effort at all. I just couldn't face you, Chief. So, because I care, I give him a truth he can hear.

"I never wanted to be a sentinel," I tell him as if that were news. "I never wanted to be cop of the year; I never wanted to be a war hero. All I've ever wanted is to be left alone to do my job as best I can without interference. To go home at the end of the day, hang out with a friend or two, eat my dinner, watch some TV and go to bed. It's not a lot to ask for, is it?"

Sandburg's giving me this peculiar look, half-exasperated, half-affectionate. I used to get that look a lot. Who knew I'd end up missing it? "C'mon, Jim. It's because you do your job better than anyone else -- better than anyone else _can_. You can't help it; it's who you are and people notice that. Look at what happened here. You're a fucking _lifeguard_ and you fought off a shark to save someone's life."

"It was my job," I insist, uncomfortably.

"Yes, it was, and you did what was necessary. But, Jim, if it were anybody else, that kid would be dead."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But it's a one-day wonder here. A fluke. People are already forgetting it and I'm back to being just one of the lifeguards."

Sandburg gives me this steady look. "Will they still think it's a fluke when it happens again? A third time? Maybe it won't be a shark, but it'll be something, Jim. What are you going to do then?"

"Then I guess I'll move on." My chest feels heavy and tight.

"Leave all your friends behind again?" Sandburg's voice is trembling with anger. "People who care about you and will miss you? Sounds pretty lonely to me. Sounds like a shitty way to live."

I stare at him, seeing exactly how much pain I've caused this man. Hurting him was never the objective, but at the time, I had to go and I couldn't let him argue me out of it. He would have fought tooth and nail to keep me there and I... would have let him. So I took the only way out I had. It's not enough, but it's all I have, so I tell him, "I'm sorry, Blair. I'm so sorry."

"Me too, Jim. Me too." The anger's gone from his voice and he just sounds sad now, slumping a little against the kitchen counter, arms around his chest like he needs the comfort of his own touch.

We stand there in silence a few minutes. Blair's staring off into the distance, frowning, and I'm a little afraid he's not buying it. He's a smart guy, enough to know he's not getting the whole truth. But so long as he never actually knows, he'll be okay. That's the other reason I left without facing him.

Being his partner for those four years was one of the best times in my life. I'll always remember it. But the time came when I realized the trust just wasn't there and the partnership was gone.

Trust is a dangerous thing. I trust where I can afford to trust -- when it's necessary and the cost isn't too high. I finally figured out I can't afford you, Blair. I know you can't afford me.

Your intentions are always good, but you're careless, you don't think things through before you jump in. That seems to work fine for you but it doesn't for me. The dissertation leak would never have happened if you'd been more careful, and your response to it was both noble and stupid. You're a good man, Blair, and I'll be the first to admit you tried to do the right thing by me, but you ended up screwing yourself royally. I don't want a partner who'll throw himself on a grenade for me; I want a partner who's smart enough to not get either one of us anywhere near that grenade. And that, my friend, is not you. So one day I woke up and knew I had to leave.

It probably wouldn't have mattered so much if our lives weren't so dangerous. If we'd been regular guys, we could have just been friends hanging out together and the trust wouldn't be an issue. But these damn sentinel senses, along with being a cop, pretty much guaranteed that plain friendship wasn't an option.

And so I ended it. I miss you, but I don't regret it.

Sandburg heaves a sigh and straightens up. He's made a decision and I wait, warily, to hear it.

"Okay, I can accept the fact that you've left Cascade permanently and that you've built another life here. I won't try to persuade you differently, but I miss you a lot, I care about you, and I'd still like to be friends, Jim."

I eye him dubiously. I'm not sure this is a good idea at all. My judgment isn't particularly objective where he's concerned, and the smart thing would be to say, 'No.'

"I don't care if you're a sentinel or not. I care about Jim Ellison the man. I want you in my life."

His voice is shaking and I have to clear my throat before saying brusquely, "Jim Ellison is gone. I'll never be him again. I'm Jim Saunders now." Suddenly, I wish I'd picked some other name because Sandburg has to have noticed the similarity. But, at the time, it seemed a good way to remind myself why I had to do this.

"Then I'd really like the chance to be Jim Saunders' friend."

He's looking at me with those big, earnest eyes and I can feel myself caving. Maybe it won't be a problem. Maybe I can limit the potential damage. After all, we'll be living on two different continents. And if it doesn't work, well, I can always disappear again. "I'll have some conditions," I warn him.

He nods and waits.

I almost laugh as I realize he's actually holding his breath. What the hell. "We can talk about it later. I was going for a drive up the coast. Maybe look for some waves. Want to come along?"

Sandburg's whole being lights up, and I can't help smiling back. Cautiously.


End file.
